


Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

by prosciutto



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosciutto/pseuds/prosciutto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know where we’re going,” Clarke continues, tugging onto his hand. “Just you wait. My mother says they’re sending out the letters soon.” </p><p>They receive their letters to Hogwarts the very next year. </p><p>Or; the one where Bellamy and Clarke grow up together over the years.</p><p>[Runner-up for best crossover oneshot in the bellarke fanfiction awards.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I have never dithered as much over a fic. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I STRUGGLED WITH THE SORTING OF THESE CHARACTERS. It was so hard. Tears were shed. I sweat through my favourite top. Binge ate french fries. Made pros and cons lists. You may not agree with how I have sorted them but I just went with my gut here. Hope you guys like it!
> 
> Fic title is sort of adapted from the Hogwarts motto; Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titllandus, loosely translated to mean never tickle a sleeping dragon.

He’s ten when he takes a life.

He’s stomping through the field, angrily swatting flies, cursing Octavia under his breath. How could she be so stupid? Running off like that. She could have hurt herself. They can barely pay for food and water as it is let alone a medical bill.

He flops on to the ground, exasperated and irritable. A crow swoops past his head, ruffling his hair, and he jerks away from it. It perches on the branch of the tree overhead, cawing loudly, its beady eyes fixated on him.

Even the birds won’t leave him be.

“Drop dead already,” Bellamy mutters, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

And as if by magic, it happens.

Bellamy watches, horror-struck, as it falls to the ground, thrashing. He runs over, panic and fear turning his blood to ice. “I take it back!” He shouts, hopes the universe hears him. He waits with bated breath. The crow stills.

The right thing to do is bury it but he’s crying so hard everything is blurry. A part of him thinks he should just leave it be- just a crow after all, a dumb animal- but he can’t.

“Why are you crying?”

She’s small. A little taller than Octavia but much neater. Octavia is all scraped knees and hard elbows but this girl is small and soft. Her fair hair is swept up into a ponytail and Bellamy knows that if he stands up he’ll tower over her.

“I didn’t mean to kill it,” He whimpers, “It was an accident. I didn’t want it to happen.”

“It’s okay,” She says, coming up to sit next to him. She rests her hand on his shoulder, squeezes it. “What happened?”

He sniffs, wipes his eyes. “I don’t know. I said I wanted it to drop dead and it did. But I didn’t mean it, I didn’t-” Bellamy pauses, exhales a shaky breath he didn’t know he had been holding in, “Strange things happen to me sometimes.” He admits miserably.

He’s surprised the admission doesn’t send her running. Or the dead bird in front of them. But her hand is still on his shoulder and the other one reaches out to take his hand.

“What’s your name?” She asks.

“Bellamy.” He mutters.

“Clarke.” She says. She has a way of enunciating, a kind of posh, clipped accent. Bellamy just knows that she’s rich. Probably lives on the big houses along the main street.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Clarke says, all matter-of-fact, as if animal murder is some what of a daily occurrence, “Look at this.” She squeezes her eyes shut, lifts her hands into the air. Bellamy just stares. She might be crazy.

Then a torrent of wind whips through the field, ruffling the grass, shaking the leaves of the tree wildly. Clarke laughs, soft and melodious, and its as if something has changed within him. A kind of understanding that makes Bellamy want to cheer and at the same time, gape. There are others like him.

“How did you do that?” He asks. He’s not going to lie. He’s really impressed and also a little jealous that she can control it.

“I can’t really control it,” She says quickly, as if reading his mind, “But I know what I am. I know what you are.” She grins mischievously, pulls him to his feet.

(She only comes up to his shoulder. So tiny, he thinks helplessly.)

“I know where we’re going,” Clarke continues, tugging onto his hand. “Just you wait. My mother says they’re sending out the letters soon.”

They receive their letters the very next year. He’s secretly relieved that he gets to go away for a while, to be by himself and figure out who he is without Octavia. But he doesn’t tell her that of course.

Octavia cries when he boards the train. His mother reminds him to come home for the holidays. Bellamy promises to write, kisses Octavia on the cheek and begs her, to please, please watch out for herself. (She’s only eight but she has raises hell everywhere she goes. Bellamy worries.)

The train pulls away and he sits down. Clarke takes his hand as they leave the station. He stares out of the window the entire time so she can’t see his smile.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
It causes quite a stir when Bellamy is sorted into Slytherin.

He’s not stupid, he knows the whispers. Mudblood. Disgrace. The worst thing that has happened to Slytherin. Three-quarters of Slytherins are made of pure-bloods after all, with family trees so ancient and pure they fill up entire walls.

The irony in the whole situation is that Bellamy knows that its a distinct possibility that his father could have been a wizard. But he refuses to acknowledge that or bring it up and so when the people ask, “Who’s the wizard in your family?” his response is always the same.

“No idea.” He would say flatly and go back to his task at hand. He knows he’s going to prove them wrong someday. He’s going to make a name for himself. And there’s always Clarke.

Clarke is his best friend- sometimes, he notes a tad resentfully, his only friend- considering everyone in Slytherin avoids him like the plague. They have some classes together and she eats her lunch with him outside so they don’t have to be separated. She has friends in Ravenclaw though, so it does make him feel bad that he’s depriving her of their company.

“They can get a little competitive.” She says nonchalantly when he mentions it. “I like being with you more.”

He looks away so she doesn’t notice how red the tips of his ears are, “Yeah well. You’re not too bad yourself.”

She grins, goes back to reading. He finishes his food and starts practicing for charms. His lack of a social life means he spends way too much time fiddling around with more advanced spells and curses. Bellamy’s not complaining though, he’s getting really good at some of the complex ones.

When the holidays come around, Bellamy packs up his things and makes the trip back home with Clarke. They’re at the train station, wheeling their numerous bags and Clarke’s cat (Van Gogh is cute but also rather fat and vicious) when she says abruptly, “I need to ask you something.”

He swears his heart stops in his chest. Bellamy has an irrational fear that Clarke is one day going to have the realization that hanging out with the likes of him is detrimental to her reputation- and she’ll stop being his friend, and that will be the worst because he’s her best friend and he really, really likes her-

“Come to my house for Christmas.” Is what she says instead and he nearly passes out in sheer relief.

“Okay,” He says after pretending to consider it, “Which one’s your house?”

“The big white one by main street.” They’ve reached the entrance of the station, ready to part ways. She gets on her tip-toes, yanks him down by his jacket sleeve and plants a solid kiss on his cheek. Her blonde hair tickles his cheek and her lips are very soft against his skin.

“Bye!” She calls out, trudging away and Bellamy grins all the way back home.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Duelling is all the rage in the second year and it’s no surprise that Bellamy is really, really good at it.

He’s a lot more popular now of course, duelling champion and all, but other than Murphy, Bellamy doesn’t really care about the rest of the Slytherins.

“I hate him,” Clarke says sulkily over breakfast one day, “He’s creepy.”

He jostles her elbow teasingly, tries to placate her by giving her his toast, “He’s not that bad. You just need to get to know him.”

“He’s a bully.” She says reproachfully. “All the Ravenclaws say so.”

Bellamy feels a surge of irritation at that- they don’t even know Murphy- “Oh yeah? What do they say about me?”

“Nothing because I’ll deck them if they do.” The brief flare of anger is replaced by a fondness for his best friend. Still tiny but growing into herself now, he realises, she’s catching up to him in terms of height. He reaches out and ruffles her hair. She ducks away, scowling, and he laughs.

He knows she’s more than capable of protecting herself but it doesn’t stop him from hexing the Gryffindor that tries to trip her up after class. The Slytherins are rightfully impressed (even the older ones) and he gains even more respect amongst them. They say his name with reverence now, as if afraid that he’ll curse their toenails off if they piss him off. He can’t say he hates it.

“Why don’t you eat with them?” Clarke asks, “They’re waiting for you, you know.”

“Well, I have you.”

She blushes a bit but it could be from the cold, “They all listen to you now. King Bellamy.” She says teasingly, flicking lake water at him with her wand.

He lunges at her, grabbing her waist and tickling relentlessly. She giggles into his ear and he buries his face into her hair. They’re both breathless now, and also freezing. Bellamy has snow up his pants. Clarke’s fingers are pruny.

“Yeah well if you want you could just eat with us.” He’s noticed that she doesn’t talk to most of the Ravenclaws now, but he’s not sure why. He could ask her but he doesn’t want to push. “They won’t say anything or make you go away, I’ll make sure of it.”

She peeks at him from under her lashes, rubs her fingers together. “Okay,” She says softly, and then louder, “Beats eating out here in the cold anyway.”

And so they do that. True to his word, no one tells Clarke to go away and if the teachers find it strange, no one mentions it. There’s some teasing from the Slytherins of course, mostly along the lines of Bellamy and his Ravenclaw girlfriend, but the comments aren’t offensive or degradatory so Bellamy lets it slide.

“Why don’t you talk to the rest of the Ravenclaws anymore?” He asks after a particularly gruelling day in class. They’re lying on the hill by Hagrid’s hut, chucking stones into the river, and he figures that if she doesn’t respond he’s not going to push it.

She bites her lip, burrows her face into her scarf. “It’s stupid.” She mumbles.

“If you don’t want to tell me-”

“I do!” Clarke insists, picking up another rock, “It’s just childish, that’s all. You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t. Or I’ll try not to, that is.”

She sighs, flings the rock out into the water. It skips a few steps and sinks.

“Do you know that guy from Hufflepuff? Really popular?”

Bellamy racks his brains, tries to remember. Most Hufflepuffs are really popular considering how nice and sweet they are, but there are the standouts of course. “Finn Collins?” He says finally.

“Yeah,” Clarke mumbles.

“What about him?”

“I have a crush on him.”

He ignores the slight discomfort he feels at this statement. Sure, there are girls that catch his eye in class some days but he’s at the stage where dating disgusts him. Other than Clarke, the rest of the girls just seem boring and condescending and well. Foreign.

“Okay so? What’s the problem?”

“Raven likes him too and all the girls are siding her because she’s known Finn forever,” She says in a rush, “The girls say I shouldn’t even like him and that he’ll go for Raven anyway because she’s smarter.”  
There’s a pregnant pause while Bellamy tries to come up with a succinct and tactful response. Eventually he decides on, “Wow. Girls can be stupid.”

She punches his arm, “Bellamy!”

“I mean,” He laughs, “Clarke, you’re the smartest girl I know. If this Finn guy doesn’t see it, then he’s an idiot. And aren’t you too young to be dating anyway?”

“I’m twelve. So are you.” She says indignantly, “And I don’t want to date him! Gross. I just think he’s sweet. And nice.”

He loops his arm around her shoulder, pulls her in close so she can rest her chin against his shoulder, “Well, why don’t you tell the rest of the girls that?”

She rolls her eyes, leans her full weight on to him, “Girls can be stupid.”

“What about you then?” She teases, “No girl catch your eye?”

“Nah.” He says easily and that’s that. They spend the rest of the night chucking stones and carving Hagrid’s pumpkins.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Octavia comes to Hogwarts in Bellamy’s third year.

She’s Slytherin of course, and he makes it clear to everyone that if they were to so much as harm a single hair on her head, he’s going to make sure they wished they were never born.

Not that Octavia needed the extra protection anyway. She’s tough as nails and charming to boot and everyone loves her. She’s got a shit temper though so Bellamy tries to calm her down quickly every time he notices the signs.

Clarke gets along with her swimmingly and their little gang of two is now a gang of three. They go to Hogsmeade together all the time and Clarke even gives Octavia an owl. (Octavia names her Hippolyte, after the brave Amazonian queen. Bellamy is secretly proud that she remembers the stories but he’ll never say so. Not to her face, at least.)

He loves his sister, he does, but she has a kind of disregard for rules that makes Bellamy want to rip his hair out. Sure, he’s not above bending some of them but this is her first year and she’s already sneaking out at night to explore the castle. Bellamy didn’t even try that shit until his second year.

He’s shaken awake roughly by Murphy one night, who mutters, “I was in the girls dorms with Katie, Octavia’s not in bed. Better go get her.” He swears under his breath and heads out.

Bellamy starts with all the places he knows she loves: the owlery, the kitchens, the courtyard. Nothing. He even tries the library but he knows that one is a lost cause even before he set foot in it.

He finally finds her in the astronomy tower, looking at the stars through a telescope.

“Octavia,” He sighs, settles down next to her on the floor, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Stargazing,” She says petulantly, “Duh, Bell.”

“We got to go, O. Don’t want Flich to catch us. You don’t want to lose house points if we get caught now, do you?”

She’s quiet and he wonders if he scared her when she says, “I want to know who our dad is.”

“What?”

She turns to face him, eyes solemn, “Do you think he was a good wizard?”

This is not a conversation he wants to have. His heart beats painfully in his chest and it hurts to swallow. He always hoped that his sister would never, never ask about their father. He doesn’t know how to deal with it for one, and he always hoped that she would never feel the need to. Weren’t his mother and him enough for her?

She must see his face fall because she adds quickly, “I’m just curious, Bell. It’s not anything, really.”

He grunts, fiddles with the edge of the telescope. Of course she’s curious.

“Do you think he was a dark wizard?”

“I don’t know,” He forces the words out, tries to sound less bitter than how he feels, “He could be a muggle for all we know. There’s nothing wrong with being a muggleborn O.”

“Murphy calls muggle borns mudbloods.”

“He won’t when I break his neck.” He snarls. That’s the only kind of argument he ever has with the rest of the Slytherins these days: blood lines. No one dares to pick on him or anything like that anymore, of course, but when brought up, they all sneak looks at him. As if expecting him to snap or insist that he’s a half-blood. He always forces himself to remain stony faced.

“That’ll be a pity, who’s going to be your potions partner then?” He knows she’s kidding though, from the tilt of her head, the lilt of her voice. Bellamy forces himself to smile and offers her his hand.

They head back to the common room, undetected, and he hovers outside her dorm for a few minutes to make sure she’s gone to bed.

Then he goes back out, heads to the library, and spends the entire time reading by lamplight. Better than addressing all the thoughts in his head anyway.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Bellamy makes the Quidditch team in his fourth year- beater- and Clarke goes to all the matches in green and silver. The Slytherins, strangely, are extremely fond of her at this point of time and go around calling her an honorary member.

Lexa, who Bellamy was once afraid of, threatens anyone who insults Clarke and Octavia got into a fist fight with a Ravenclaw who said something about Clarke’s loyalties. (She gets detention and has to scrub the bed pans in hospital wing.)

He’s grateful of course, and surprised at how easily they take her under their wing. Even Murphy seems taken with her and that’s saying something. They have taken to call her ‘Princess Clarke’ and giving exaggerated curtseys whenever she passes. (Mostly to do with the line of pure bloods she comes from, just like most of the other Slytherins) It’s all in good fun though and he’s pretty sure Clarke doesn’t mind.

He gives her his Slytherin scarf for his fourth game. She protests at first but wears it for all the subsequent matches afterward. Even makes him a sign that she drew herself. He looks out for it when he’s flying sometimes, and he always finds her blonde hair first.

There are a lot of rumours flying around of course, that they’re dating and Bellamy does nothing to dispel them because, well. It’s not like he minds. So he is surprised when Finn Collins asks Clarke out the following term.

“Good for you, Clarke.” He had said and he couldn’t explain the hollow feeling in his chest. He kissed Roma the very same day in the common room. They weren’t an item or anything though, he didn’t like her well enough to go beyond that.

Clarke spends less time with him and Bellamy throws himself into Quidditch and studying. He’s great at charms now and Flitwick likes to give him extra advanced charms to try out with a few other students at his level. He recommends them to form a club and so the Charms club is formed.

He’s apprehensive at first (Quidditch and duelling takes up so much of his time already) but warms to the idea quickly when he realises how fun it is. The club so far comprises of Monty Green, Ravenclaw, Nathan Miller, Gryffindor, and Jasper Jordan, Hufflepuff, but he’s thinking about bringing Clarke in to the mix.

“I can’t,” She says regretfully when he corners her in the corridor to History Of Magic, “I just don’t have the time, Bellamy.” (Finn’s standing there with his arm draped possessively over her shoulders. It doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t.)

“Okay.” Is all he manages before he walks away.

Monty brings Raven into the club and as much as he wants to hate her because of Clarke, he can’t. She’s smart and has a kind of sarcastic, dry wit that he appreciates. He misses Clarke less when he’s with her so when she kisses him one day, he doesn’t stop her.

“I’m sorry,” She says when she pulls away, “I’m not exactly thinking straight here. I’m just really mad at Finn and Clarke.”

He reassures her that it’s fine and it’s almost strange how easily they go back to snapping at each other playfully and practicing cheering charms on each other.

But someone must have seen the kiss because Clarke finds out and its awful.

“You’re mad at me.” He states flatly after he finds her hiding out in the girl’s bathroom.

“I’m not,” She says, voice rising in pitch, “Bellamy, this is the girls bathroom.”

“And no one comes here,” He says irritably, “Except you, when you need to think. Why are you mad?”

She stalks to him, pokes him hard in the chest, “I. Am. Not.”

“What the hell did I do to warrant this from you?” He yells, throwing his hands out exasperatedly, “You’re the one who’s been too busy for me nowadays. Hell, I should be the one mad here! I should be fucking livid!”

Then she’s kissing him, mouth hot and angry against his, and he responds eagerly, swiping his tongue into her mouth. Her finger nails are scratching against the back of his neck and his hands are tangled in her hair. A rational part of him is screaming at him to stop but his hands skim downward to grab her hips instead. She groans into his mouth.

She pulls away first, wiping her mouth. Bellamy can only stare, a little stunned at the whole encounter. He kissed Clarke. His best friend.

“Clarke,” He starts because she’s not saying anything but then she bursts into tears, and okay, Bellamy is sufficiently alarmed.

“I’m sorry,” He stammers, reaches for her so he can rub soothing circles on her back,“I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to-”

“Finn broke up with me,” She says in between sobs and Bellamy feels his entire body sag in relief. “He heard that you kissed Raven and he got jealous and-” He runs his fingers through her hair, lets him cry into his sweater. God. He hates Finn Collins.

The next day, Clarke is back at the Slytherins table. They’re a little wary at first, considering her recent abandonment, but Bellamy threatens to put a freezing charm on them if they’re nothing but polite so no one does anything.

He does ask Raven if she’s getting back with Finn though and she laughs in his face. He’s ashamed he even asked. Raven’s not one to take any of this crap. He introduces her to Clarke properly, insists that they try out the whole being friends thing.

(He regrets it three months later when they’re good friends and they hex him every time he’s being an idiot.)

Clarke doesn’t bring up the kiss and neither does he.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Aurora Blake dies when Bellamy is fifteen and the world is forever changed.

The funeral lasts three days. She was sick, Abby Griffin tells him, sick for a long time. She didn’t want them to worry.

“You can always stay with us during the holidays,” She tells him soothingly, pushes his hair back from his face, “You and Octavia will always be welcome here.”

He opens his mouth, wants to say thank you. Cries into his palms instead.

They all deal with their grief differently. Octavia returns to Hogwarts immediately, tries to bring Bellamy with her. He doesn’t though. He wants to be with his mother a little while longer. He understands why she leaves though- Octavia runs from things she can’t deal with and if that’s how she wants to cope, what can he do to stop her?

Clarke stays with him the rest of the holidays, never leaves his side. She holds his hand throughout the funeral, gently rocks him back to sleep when he’s plagued with nightmares. He doesn’t know how to express how grateful he is for her- except for whispered thank yous into her skin late at night, after the nightmares- but he hopes she knows.

“I’m a fucking orphan,” He whispers into her neck, arms curled around her waist.

She shifts, turns around so she’s facing him straight on. “You have Octavia,” She reminds him.

“Octavia doesn’t need me anymore. She doesn’t even want me around sometimes.”

“I need you,” She says, burrowing her head against his chin, “I want you around.”

He kisses the top of her head, pulls her closer. He needs her, he needs her, he needs her.

“Don’t think about going anywhere, okay?” He says fiercely.

“Won’t dream of it.” She promises and for the first time in what feels like forever, Bellamy allows himself to feel hopeful.

They go back to Hogwarts two weeks later and things are different now. Not different in a bad way, Bellamy supposes, just. Different.

Casual kisses and touches with girls is a thing of the past now- Bellamy just doesn’t bother anymore- and he gets irrationally jealous every time he sees Clarke with other guys. He keeps finding excuses to hold her hand or pull her against his side and he just- he just wants her around all the time, alright?

He’s aware that yes, he’s very much in love with her, and yes, he’s an idiot because he should just tell her already. But the thought of Clarke not feeling the same way, of Clarke leaving, terrifies him so much that he just can’t bring himself to do it.

“You’re so in love with her,” Octavia mutters as they push their way to Care Of Magical Creatures, Clarke weaving ahead of them.

He doesn’t even deny it anymore, just grunts, “Yeah, so?”

She stares at him in disbelief, “So? Do something about it, you blithering idiot!”

“I don’t think she looks at me like that, O.”

“You two exhaust me,” She says dramatically, shoving a bunch of first years out of way before disappearing into the crowd.

In the end, it happens with little fanfare or dramatics. They’re studying in the library one day, quizzing each other for their Defence Against The Dark Arts O.W.L.S, when she asks casually, “So are we like, a thing?”  
He chokes, nearly falls off his chair, sputters, “What?” so loud he thinks he hears Miller snigger from two rows down.

She sighs, exasperated. “Are. We. Together.” She says deliberately slowly, as if talking to a child, “Honestly, Bellamy. Why are you acting so surprised it’s not like I’ve kept my feelings well hidden or anything.”

Yes you have, he thinks, dumbfounded, but she’s smiling up at him so he just goes with it and kisses her. It’s slow this time, not as much heat as the first. He kisses her languidly and she lays her fingers against his back. They have to stop at one point because he starts grinning like an idiot and its only after she threatens to turn him into a pygmy puff that he kisses her again properly.

“I really didn’t know, okay?” He says after. They’re lying on the floor of the library now, books strewn everywhere. (They have given up the pretense of studying though Clarke sometimes springs a question on him between kisses.) “I thought you were into pretty boys.”

She smiles, pecks his mouth gently, “You are a pretty boy.”

“Am not!” He says affronted.

“Yeah,” She says, laying her head on his chest and twining their legs together, “You kind of are.”

He’s tempted to fight back but she’s kissing him again and by the time Madam Pince screams at them that this is a place of studying and they scramble out, clothes askew, he’s forgotten all about it anyway.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Octavia gets a Gryffindor boyfriend in Bellamy’s sixth year and the ensuing drama is well, to put it mildly, horrendous.

Screaming matches in the common room occur every other night most of them being centered around the fact that she’s dating a boy three years older (Bellamy’s age!) and Gryffindors, O? Really?

He’s not prejudiced towards any house, especially when he considers Miller from Gryffindor one of his best friends- but it makes him uneasy that she’s dating someone so different. What if he breaks her heart? O’s been through enough as it is.

“You don’t have to worry,” Clarke reassures him, “I know Lincoln. We’re in Herbology together. He’s a good guy.”

“He’s too old for her,” He mutters, buries his face in the crook of her neck, pouting, “Can’t you take off some points off Gryffindor because he’s a pedophile?”

Clarke’s a prefect- slated to become head girl, and he suspects Monty will be head boy of Ravenclaw- but she’s annoyingly fair about docking points. Bellamy admires her for that but couldn’t she just make an exception?

“No,” She says firmly, pulling him back so she can kiss him properly. He brushes his hands up her sides teasingly and she laughs into his mouth, “I won’t do it.” She says when they pull their mouths away.

“I knew you weren’t going to anyway.” He mutters, “Wasn’t like I wanted to seduce you into doing it or anything.”

“You call that seduction?” She bursts into hysterical laughter. He growls, pins her down and plants wet kisses all over her face. She turns her head and pulls him down for a kiss. Just when they’re really getting into it, Bellamy’s hand travelling further up her thigh, they’re interrupted by Raven.

“Separate your mouths from one another,” She barks, striding into the empty classroom (Bellamy nearly drops Clarke and she punches his arm angrily), “We have a problem.”

“What?”

“You’re playing against Gryffindor tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. Clarke’s skirt is still hitched up, showing a considerable amount of thigh. He can’t say he’s complaining about the view but he’d prefer it if his girlfriend didn’t walk around flashing her underwear to strangers, so he pulls it down for her gently. She nips his ear when he does and Raven rolls her eyes in exasperation.

“So Harper hurt herself cutting up boomslang for Potions today. She’s not playing seeker.”

“And I should be worried because…?”

Raven sighs, “Because the substitute seeker is Lincoln.”

“Oh no.” Clarke says quickly, her eyes widening in horror. “Bellamy, don’t you dare. I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything.” He is, in fact, thinking of crushing this Lincoln’s skull with this bat tomorrow. But he’s not going to tell her that.

“Bellamy.” She says sternly.

“Clarke.”

“We’re not doing the name game.” Raven snarls, “Listen here Blake. If you hurt Lincoln, Octavia is going to crush your scones. And by scones I mean your balls so for the love of god, hold back tomorrow.”

The next morning is tense. Octavia is not speaking to him during breakfast and Clarke is trying to placate the both of them by facilitating conversation. It’s not really working though. It’s in fact, a little bit pathetic.

“If you’re struggling with Charms, you should ask Bellamy for help.” Clarke says helpfully as she watches Octavia glower at her textbook.

Octavia in a mood is a sight to behold and he’s already expecting it when she slams the book shut and snipes, “I don’t need his help for anything, thanks.”

Clarke sighs, rubs soothing circles on his thigh as if he’s the one that’s in need of calming, “She doesn’t mean it.” She mutters under her breath.

“I know.” He squeezes her hand, gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ll be in the stands?”

She smiles, winds his green and silver scarf around her neck, and yanks him down for a proper kiss. The Slytherins start catcalling them and there’s a whoop from the Ravenclaw table. He smiles against her mouth, deepens it until she pulls away, giggling. “Go get ‘em tiger.” She says, smacking his ass. He grins stupidly and salutes her as he leaves.

Lincoln isn’t built like most seekers, he realises when he mounts his broom. Most seekers are built like Murphy: fast, wiry but with enough muscle mass to take a few hits. Lincoln has broad shoulders and could probably take Bellamy in a fight. He grinds his teeth, annoyed at this development.

The game starts and it’s a dirty one. Bellamy sends bludgers flying everywhere, sometimes even slams his bat against the players. Quidditch was meant to be played rough after all, and if you couldn’t handle it, don’t play. Gryffindor gets a few penalty throws though and Lexa calls him aside to tell him to tone it down through gritted teeth.

“I know you hate the guy but you’re throwing the game,” She hisses, “So do it sneakily and don’t get caught, or god forbid, I knock you off your broom. Got it?”

“Fine,” He snaps. He spends the rest of the game watching Lincoln broodily and hitting bludgers at the Gryffindor players that stare at him a little too long.

He has to admit that Lincoln is a good player though, and a good sport considering he shakes everyone’s hand even after Slytherin wins.

“Bellamy,” He says, grabbing Lincoln’s hand and squeezing. Hard. He flashes him a smile, all teeth, and Bellamy knows he looks feral. That’s what he was going for. “Octavia’s big, bad brother.”

“So I heard,” Lincoln says mildly, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Yup,” He says casually, “So here’s what you should know. If you hurt my sister, I crush your scones.”

To his credit, Lincoln doesn’t even flinch. Just stares at him steadily, says, “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

(Years later, Lincoln mentions this little exchange during his wedding speech. Octavia is less than pleased.)  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
He spends the last year of Hogwarts exploring the castle grounds with Clarke. He wants to be able to brag that he has explored every inch of the castle. She just wants to make out in dark corners. (He’s not even complaining.)

“I’m going to miss this place.” Bellamy tells her, lying on the hill by Hagrid’s hut.

“We still have each other.” She says, snuggling into his lap. He holds her close, buries his face in her hair. Clarke has a distinctive smell- citrusy with a bit of vanilla. He loves it.

“Yeah.” He agrees, “You’re my best friend after all.”

He can feel her smile against his neck. “Best friends,” She says against his skin and he shivers at the proximity.

And that’s Bellamy’s response every time someone asks about them, years later. How did they meet, a student will ask and he’ll tell them what he tells everyone.

We’re best friends. We grew up together.

fin.


End file.
